The Dirty Series: The Complete Bad Boy Billionaire Boxed Set

by Amelia Wilde

  The tiniest piece of my heart shifts, makes room.

  She’s only going to be here for a while.

  I can give a little during that time.

  “In an apartment on the Upper East Side, until I was ten.”

  “What happened then?”

  I take a deep breath and give her what she wants.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Angelica

  Monday is never my day.

  Hadley is, damn the woman, up my ass about the last minute delays on last week’s package.

  “Do you anticipate similar delays with any of the pieces for this week?”

  “I don’t, no.” I turn to scan the calendar app open on my computer screen. “I’ve built in extra time to confirm all the necessary quotes, and the designers have been getting the graphics back at least four hours ahead of schedule.”

  She purses her lips, squints at my computer screen. “Angelica, I don’t have to tell you that I was pretty disappointed in your performance last week.”

  Then why are you telling me? “I completely understand, Hadley. It won’t happen again.” There’s absolutely no point in reminding her that I have company-guaranteed sick time, or that once in a while it’s appropriate for people to have a life outside of work.

  Speaking of outside, there’s something more pressing I need to do today—even more pressing than pleasing Hadley. The sooner I can get her to go back to her own office, the sooner I can barrel through the rest of today’s work.

  I have to meet Charlie.

  I got his message as soon as I sat down at my desk this morning.

  Did you download the latest information?

  Yes.

  I hovered over the “send” button for a moment before adding, I have the thumb drive with me. Better that he interpret my tone as serious rather than snotty. God knows what he’ll do if I piss him off.

  In his next reply, he named off a coffee shop located two blocks from my office, and a time: 5:15. It seemed reasonable until Hadley revealed she was in an even more uptight mood than usual today, which usually signals that I’ll be staying until at least 6:00.

  Damn it.

  My only hope is to get enough done before 5:00 that I can make the case for heading out then.

  I work like a madwoman, straight through lunch, putting text together with images for three site features that are going live by the end of the week, hassling the photography department about changes I need made on some of the photos, and checking tasks off in Hadley’s task-tracking system. She lives and dies by that thing, and so do I.

  By 4:45, I’m down to the final checkbox on the list. The task reads, “Send full email update to Hadley Martin.’ It hurts not to roll my eyes.

  But send a “full email update” I do, detailing little tidbits about each of the items on the list and confirming that they are, in fact, finished.

  When the clock strikes five, I flip off my computer monitor with an authority I certainly don’t fucking feel on the inside, fling my purse strap over my shoulder, and stride out of the office like I’m on a mission.

  Thankfully, Hadley’s office door is closed, and as I go by I her voice rising in volume. I can only hope this phone call will last long enough that she doesn’t call me back in. It’s been known to happen.

  Charlie is waiting outside the coffee shop—an independently owned one three doors down from a Starbucks. As usual, there’s nobody inside the indie store—Mugs—but Charlie lurks outside, leaning against the brickwork, his collared shirt making him look like a preppy Geek Squad member, only menacing.

  When he notices me, my stomach tightens. I have to stifle the urge to turn and run in the opposite direction down the street.

  Instead, I force myself to approach him, stopping several feet away. He straightens up from the wall.

  “Drive.”

  I slip my hand into my purse and pull out the thumb drive, tipping it into his hand as fast as humanly possible.

  Charlie pulls an identical thumb drive from his pocket and hands it off to me. “One week from today. That’s the deadline.” I can feel the adrenaline spiking through my veins. “Got it?”

  “Yes.”

  He turns to go, but the blood is rushing in my ears. How long do I have to keep up this facade with Jett? “Wait.”

  Charlie turns slowly around, his eyes narrowed at me menacingly. “What?”

  “How long—?” I have to force the words out around the tightness in my throat. “How long do you want me to keep this up? When is Adam’s debt going to be paid?”

  He barks out a laugh. “If you hadn’t been such a stupid bitch and installed the program correctly the first time, this would be behind you.” My muscles tense at the word bitch, but I’m not stupid enough to pick a fight about it. Not here. “I wouldn’t answer that question even if I could.”

  I should turn and go. I should walk back down the street, hail a cab and get out at Jett’s apartment and do what I’m told. But the moment is dragging out, slowing down, and I can see every twitch of expression in Charlie’s face. If we’re going to keep meeting like this, I want to have some idea of when it will end. So I give it one more try.

  “You don’t have any idea when—?”

  “What did I just say?” Charlie’s eyes are cold, sending shivers racing down my spine even in the late summer heat.

  “Never mind.” I back up a couple of steps. “One week.”

  “As long as it fucking takes,” he spits, then turns on his heel and leaves. At the next alley, he makes a right and disappears from my view.

  Once he’s out of sight, my muscles go weak, and for an instant I think I might totter over on my high heels like I’ve been day-drinking. I get hold of myself at the last second.

  Charlie has been crystal clear—getting Jett to let me stay at his penthouse is only the tip of the iceberg. This could go on for weeks.

  Weeks.

  If that happens, there’s no way I can keep pretending that I’m there for a fling. I certainly won’t be able to keep coming back after the fact if it’s as meaningless as Jett seems to make me want to believe.

  He’s going to have to fall in love.

  But I’m going to have to keep myself from doing the same.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jett

  Angelica sends me a text message at 5:30.

  I didn’t overstay my welcome, did I? ;)

  Hell no.

  My nerve endings light up when I think about Saturday night...and Sunday morning. Angelica’s body fits to mine like she was made for me. Burying my cock inside her has to be the greatest pleasure I’ve ever experienced in my life. And somehow—some fucking how—she’s actually interested in me, Jett Brandon, not Jett Brandon the billionaire.

  She asked me questions throughout the day, her voice tentative, never pushy. She listened without interrupting, the pink tip of her tongue resting on her upper lip. Concentrating on the answers. No dollar signs in her eyes.

  Looking back, that’s all I ever saw in Emerald’s. She wanted my capital and my name even more than she wanted to sleep with me. That was just an added bonus.

  I’ve been replaying the weekend over again in my head all day, and each time I picture Angelica beneath me on the bed, lips parted, cheeks pink, crying out, my skin heats up.

  I’m supposed to be in control, but I want her to be digging her nails into my chest, riding me hard. No space between us.

  It could work.

  I shut down that thought. I’m not even willing to follow it through to its conclusion.

  But it creeps back in.

  After two nights? Not a chance.

  Phew...I’ll see you back at your place then

  Where are you?

  Getting into a cab right now

  My next text is to Stuart.

  Bring the car around. Going home.

  Angelica is in the lobby when I get there, eyes closed, head tilted back.

  “Thinking dirty thoughts?”

 
She laughs a little, but when she turns to look at me, there’s a hint of a frown on her face. “Just enjoying the air conditioning.”

  My reply is on my lips—You’d enjoy it a lot more without those clothes—but she raises a hand to her temple, catches herself before her fingers make contact. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, something I can’t quite discern—but it makes me think she’s not in the mood to have her clothes stripped off and her body played like an instrument, even by me.

  Under any other circumstance, my jaw would already be tight right along with my chest, a disappointment that I would never give anyone the satisfaction of showing boiling in my gut. But this little movement from Angelica has me feeling something else entirely—warmth.

  I want to take her hand, take her upstairs, and....

  And what?

  Order something she’ll think is extravagant to eat.

  Show her the clothes I had delivered today, an entire wardrobe in her size, pieces for every fathomable occasion that could arise over the next couple of weeks.

  I want my hands all over her, but on her shoulders, kneading the tension away.

  And when it’s gone....

  Then I’ll take her to the bedroom.

  Instead, I start with, “Stressful day at work?”

  Angelica blows her breath out through her lips, then smiles brightly up at me, shaking it off. Something about the way she’s so determined not to let it get to her makes my heart speed up. “Par for the course.”

  Still, I want to know.

  I put my hand on her elbow and guide her toward the elevator. “Your boss?”

  “She was no picnic today.”

  I press the call button and the elevator car arrives moments later, and we step inside. The seclusion of the car has my heart pounding in my ears, but I resist the urge to press her up against the wall and kiss her so fiercely it melts the foundation of the building.

  Angelica stays close to me, taking another deep breath and letting it out.

  “Hey.”

  She glances up at me, and our eyes lock together.

  “You wanted to know more about me over the weekend.”

  This makes a little pink rise to her cheeks. “Still do.”

  “I want to know more about you, too.”

  Her laugh is clear and melodic. “I thought you said this wasn’t a romance.”

  “It’s not a romance,” I say, but it feels like a lie. The elevator glides to a halt when we reach my floor, and we step out and walk across the hall to go inside my penthouse. “It’s just that I can’t very well take you to the bedroom and fuck you if your head is still at work.”

  Angelica’s eyes go wide and innocent. “You can’t?” She shrugs off her purse, setting it on the table in the foyer, and tilts her head, considering me. “What would you do instead?”

  This woman.

  I step closer to her and give her a roguish grin. “My original plan was to order in from Sasabune, then give you a massage and take you on a tour of your new wardrobe—”

  “My new wardrobe?”

  “Everything you might need to stay here while your place is repaired.”

  She bites her lip, eyes shining. “Then what?”

  “Then I was going to take you to the bedroom and have my way with you.”

  Angelica unbuttons the top two buttons of her white blouse and purses her lips. “What if we switch the order up a little bit?”

  “You want to see the wardrobe first?”

  Angelica’s laugh is real, genuine. “Bed.”

  I frown a little. “Are you absolutely sure that—?”

  One half step, and Angelica has the lapels of my dove gray jacket in her fists, yanking me down and covering my mouth with hers, biting at my lip. It feels so good that a little groan escapes from my lips.

  “Listen,” she says between passionate kisses. “We can talk about work today, but only after....” She comes in for another kiss and it’s both too much and not fucking enough at the same time. I want to be inside her, damn all of these clothes, damn the bedroom, there’s nobody here today and I can fuck this woman anywhere I please.

  I finish Angelica’s sentence for her the next time she comes up for air. “As soon as I have you. Right now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Angelica

  Jett pops the rest of the buttons on my blouse on the way to getting it off, and when those go it drives him a little wild. He’s tearing at the fabric, breaking the seams. By the time it falls to the floor, he’s already swept me up in his arms, striding effortlessly into the lavish living room, the city spread out in front of us through the massive picture windows.

  I couldn’t be less interested in the view. I’m too wrapped up in wriggling out of my skirt while Jett shrugs off his jacket. In seconds, his clothes are strewn on the carpet next to my skirt. His body is absolute perfection. Ripped abs. Strong arms. And the green eyes with fire at the center....

  Then his hands are encircled around my waist, pulling me in, and I breathe him in, his scent spicy and clean and manly.

  I want nothing between us.

  I run my hands down his bare chest, letting my fingertips explore every dip and ridge as he plants kisses down the side of my neck, over the skin of my shoulder. When his hands go lower, diving between my legs and stroking the slickness there, it feels like a flame that suffuses every nerve ending with an electrified warmth. His fingertips are pure pleasure gliding over my skin.

  The kiss deepens, slows, until finally I can’t stand it.

  “Give it to me,” I cry out hoarsely.

  Jett responds by unhooking my bra and sliding the straps off my shoulders. My nipples peak at attention from the air conditioning, and Jett covers one with the pad of his thumb. The sensation takes my breath away, and then he leans his head down and swirls his tongue around the sensitive skin. I can’t help throwing my head back, pressing into him.

  “You’re gorgeous like this,” he whispers, and the next thing I know he’s pressing me back into the couch, pulling my ass to the edge, and spreading my legs wide. Kneeling on the lush carpeting between them, he looks at me for a long moment, face focused with anticipation, like I’m a gift he’s about to unwrap on Christmas morning.

  Then the moment stretches to its breaking point and snaps, my legs quivering, my insides melting as Jett devours me like an exquisite entree, his tongue ravenously exploring every fold, pressing inside me, licking, tasting.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “You like that?” Jett says, and pushes one finger into my opening. My legs clench involuntarily, but they meet with the rock-hard resistance of his shoulders.

  “Yes.”

  Another finger joins the first, and then he does something—Jesus Christ, I don’t know what and I don’t care—that hits a space inside of me that I never knew existed until this moment. When he does, it releases the climax that’s been building since he kissed me in the foyer. As I start to come down from my high, he curls his fingers again and sends me back up to the top of the roller coaster, again, and again, and again.

  By the time he pulls me to my feet, bending me over the arm of the sofa and slamming the full length of his steel-rod cock in to the hilt in one stroke, I’m jelly, I’m light, I’m his.

  I’m so lost in him that I don’t hear my phone ringing, once, twice, three times.

  After we’ve showered, Jett sends Stuart to collect our sushi from Sasabune, which is one of the priciest restaurants in New York. While he’s texting the order directly to the owner of the place—sometimes Jett’s lifestyle strikes me as completely unbelievable—I go hunting for my phone and find it exactly where I left it, tucked inside my purse on the table in the foyer.

  My heart sinks into my toes when I see the missed calls from Adam.

  “Angelica?” Jett’s voice floats over from the opposite end of the living room. “Where are you, sweet thing?”

  “I just have to make a call.” Does my voice sound shaky? Is it a giv
eaway?

  Work. I can always blame it on work.

  Stepping closer to the door, I dial Adam’s number. The fact that he called instead of texting makes me think this is urgent, and my heart pounds in my ears. Did Charlie come back? Did plans change again? He stayed at my place for about a week before he got sick of the commute and seemed fine when he left....

  He answers on the second ring. “Angie?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t...nothing.”

  My stomach contracts. “Nothing? You scared the shit out of me, Adam.”

  “I just needed—I just wanted—”

  “Spit it out.”

  “I just want to know if everything was going all right. Are you okay? He’s not...he’s not following you or anything, is he?”

  I take a deep breath. If Adam is in the dark about all this, then Charlie hasn’t been lurking around making any threats. That’s good for Adam.

  Not quite so great for me, because now I’m more certain than ever that somehow this is all on my shoulders.

  It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, not after the way we grew up.

  “How have you been sleeping?”

  Adam lets out a bitter laugh. “Like shit. I had three extra locks installed on my door, and I’m constantly looking over my shoulder everywhere I go. Not that it would make any difference if Charlie decided to....”

  “He’s got people everywhere,” I agree.

  “Angie, it’s driving me crazy.” Adam’s voice pitches lower, tighter, and I know this is the absolute truth. He’s never handled stress very well. I’ve always been the one to sort things out for us.

  It’s clear I’ve never stopped.

  “Do you have any vacation time?”

  “Vacation time?”

  “Yeah. You’ve been at the bar long enough, haven’t you?”

  “I guess....”

  “You should go home. See mom.”

  “I can’t leave you here by yourself.”